


Single Piece Events

by ArtisticVicu



Series: RPApril Extravaganza 2017 [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Limericks, Nonbinary Character, Original Character(s), Poetry, Soap Opera, Vent Piece, a day in the life of a young cat, multiple stories, training to scouting trip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:14:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23420773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtisticVicu/pseuds/ArtisticVicu
Summary: Each chapter is a different piece for a given event.Chapter 1:A handful of inanimate objects talk on a cruise.Chapter 2:Two limericks: Writer's Block | Creative FlowChapter 3:A good number of 'he said/she said' jokes during training and a scouting mission.Chapter 4:When life goes from 'simple' to 'adventure', be careful of whiplash.Chapter 5:'A day in the life of' told by a young cat.Chapter 6:A poem about motion; also partially a vent piece
Series: RPApril Extravaganza 2017 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1684717
Kudos: 1





	1. Inanimate Object Soap Opera

**Author's Note:**

> **Event Summary:**  
>  It is up to YOU to create a parody of a soap opera television show using various inanimate objects that you are free to choose. Each object will be in connection (or relation) to another object in some form and of your choosing. Make up your own soap opera story!

"Ugh. I think I'm going to be sick."  
  
The plastic statuette shifted away from the water bottle, attempting to look as affronted as a plastic mini cruise ship on a stand could look. "As long as it's not on me!" the plastic statuette exclaimed, shimmying farther away without much success. The shelf they were on together was already not very large and the statuette was already at the corner.  
  
"Deep breaths, bottle," urged the pocket watch from a shelf below. "And, really, if you're going to be sick, do it on the carpet, not on the shelf."  
  
"Easy for you to say," the water bottle wheezed.  
  
"It's alright!" the pamphlet called from the table beneath the shelves. "He can lose his contents on me. I'll just absorb them!"  
  
"That's very sweet of you," the towel folded into a monkey spoke, "but my brethren beside you would be a better choice for that."  
  
The multicolored towel ruffled itself, glaring in a sorts at its white, oddly folded counterpart. "Excuse me!" they exclaimed. "I will have you know I am of high quality and am not made for cleaning up messes, unlike you."  
  
There was a collective noise of shock and disbelief from the other objects in the room.  
  
"Towel!" the backpack on the couch shouted. "Apologize, right now."  
  
The colorful towel did its best impression of a sneer. "I don't see why I have to."  
  
"Because you don't know your fate, Fresh One," came a thick, heavy voice from beneath the bed. All objects focused their attention on the duffle bag suitcase that slowly withdrew itself from the confines of the bed skirt. Nestled inside its open belly were several grocery bags, one of which shifted open as the clothing within freed themselves to look about. The other clothing in the bag shifted about, making room. "All end up either within myself or the backpack to return home."  
  
The colorful towel deflated slightly. "This is not home?"  
  
There was a spattering of giggles and laughter. Even the suitcase gave a deep chuckle. "No, Fresh One, this is not home. Home is much more than this single room."  
  
The colorful towel looked about, not understanding. The backpack spoke up, though the words were softly guarded. "Do you know what an airplane is?"  
  
The colorful towel nodded, puffing itself up again. "Of course! How do you think I got here?"  
  
The backpack didn't engage in the bate but the suitcase took over. "It is alright, Fresh One. There are a many Fresh Ones that do not know what it is. Backpack is one of those."  
  
The colorful towel looked to the backpack, surprise written in how the towel held itself. "Honestly?"  
  
The backpack, for a lack of a better name for the action, nodded. "I knew what a car was. I was a school backpack for the longest time. I carried books, notebooks, and all sorts of trinkets and gadgets. I didn't know what an airplane even was till I was taken through a location I had never been. Let me tell you, being sent through the scanner for the first time without knowing what it was is the scariest thing ever. I was lucky that Suitcase was with me."  
  
"I was made for travel," the suitcase spoke, "and that particular trip had only been another trip with our human."  
  
The colorful towel seemed to frown. "Human?"  
  
"The strange creature that pulled you out of your wrapper," the pocket watch chimed in. "They are quite kind, if not a bit rough at times."  
  
"Not their fault," the suitcase assured the colorful towel when it was clear the words had disturbed it. "The human and every other of its kind are clumsy creatures and they are not always the most careful when dealing with us. We will break and tear from wear and use. You may get put away for months before you are used, if not years. I only come out when the human is traveling far from home for a large amount of time."  
  
The backpack nodded, adding, "I am pulled out more frequently and left within easy access of our human. I am lucky to be able to watch their day to day life from where I'm stored."  
  
The colorful towel looked around. "So where are we if not home?" the towel asked in a small voice.  
  
"On what the human calls vacation," the backpack offered.  
  
The suitcase agreed, adding, "Specifically, a cruise ship. A massive vessel that traverses water."


	2. Limerick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Event Summary:**  
>  lim·er·ick  
> ˈlim(ə)rik/  
> noun
> 
> a humorous, frequently bawdy, verse of three long and two short lines rhyming aabba, popularized by Edward Lear.  
> Your limerick must be five lines. You can submit up to two limericks

Limerick Entry 1 - Writer's Block  
It was all I could do to think  
My hand could not translate thought to ink  
Every motion was forced  
Every line was coerced  
The resulting text was but a hoodwink  
  
Limerick Entry 2 - Creative Flow  
There is no thought with action  
All task is brought to a fraction  
All that is left is flow  
Frustration is slow  
Hypersensitive reaction


	3. Big Boss Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Event Summary:**  
>  The writing prompt this year is: "That's what he said" Min. 1000 words and Max. 3000 words.

"Stay still and this won't hurt a bit."  
  
"That's what he said!" she shouted in glee, dodging another shot with a trill of laughter. The scent of paint told her she had cut it rather close and that she would need to wash her hair. Again. A shot whizzed past her nose and she curled back as if doing the limbo, sliding across the floor on her knees. Ok, so egging him on when he was pissed probably wasn't the wisest ideas she'd ever had but he had totally left himself open for that and she was certain he knew that. She rolled back up to her feet, the backwards motion taking her out of aim of another shot. She twirled around, letting the motion help her throw her gun out, and she took aim as her body came to face what she was looking at. Three shots off and each one hit him dead center of the chest plate. She grinned at him. "I win!" she called.  
  
"You wish!" a voice exclaimed but she dropped, rolling and realigning herself with the new target. Two shots went off, one to the face mask, the other to the chest. It threw off the new person enough that they crashed to the ground with a startled yelp. She turned, locking her sights on the last target and firing off four rounds. The first two missed but the third clipped the person in the shoulder and the fourth clipped them in the chest. The person spun but stayed standing. She grinned.  
  
"Well played," the last person she had shot commented, straightening. "Your team wasn't all that talented."  
  
She gave a bark of a laugh. "Yet I see only three of ten. I'd say we did pretty well."  
  
"What, with you being the last one?" the second target challenged.  
  
She gave them a flat look. "I took you out, didn't I?"  
  
The second target raised a finger, mouth open as if ready to reply, only to close their mouth and let their finger wilt. The first opponent stepped forward, ending the discussion with, "They won, regardless of how. Go drop off your gear and get cleaned up. We head out in a half hour."  
  
The two others nodded and walked off, second target bounding over to third target's side yammering away and seemingly completely content that third target wasn't really participating in the conversation. She couldn't make out the conversation in the first place so it was just as likely that second target wasn't letting the other have a chance. She looked to her first opponent and offered her hand, grinning. "Good game, Erickson."  
  
He shook it, nodding. "Same to you, Smythe. Where'd you learn to shoot like that?"  
  
She shrugged, walking with him after the others. "I'v'e been taught here and there. Most of the time I just shove all the tidbits that I've learned elsewhere together and go from there."  
  
He chuckled. "I'm impressed. Would have pegged you for a rookie if I didn't know better and if I had never seen you move like you did today."  
  
The rest of their two teams were near the gear drop off. Those that had been taken out early were already cleaned up and changed. The two that she had pelted were just now taking off their gear.  
  
"Why did your team have you stay untouched till the end?" Erickson inquired.  
  
She shrugged. "It was more happenstance than anything else. I'm a scout. It's my job to get in and out without being caught and I ended up being last man standing because of it. There was talk about taking out as many as possible before all succumbed to fire. The goal was already set before the game so, when I became last man standing against three, I had a few team members try and talk me out of going up against you three by myself."  
  
"Why didn't you listen?"  
  
They had stopped before the edge of the large group, well out of earshot of anyone that wanted to try and listen in. Her expression closed off a bit at that. "Because I knew I couldn't go down without giving it my all. It was just shear luck that the other two showed up when they did. Otherwise time may have run out before I was able to take them out as well."  
  
He hummed. "That's not a bad strategy, at least."  
  
"Keeping one man hidden?" she verified and he nodded. "That's only a good plan if you're down to the wire but it's also poor strategy. That's working with the thought that your enemy would never come across that man while said man was trying to stay out of harms way."  
  
Erickson hummed again, this time in agreeance.  
  
A siren blared. It was like someone had lit a fire under each person there. Bodies were suddenly moving towards the exit and both Smythe and Erickson were apart of that still fully decked out in the paintball gear. Smythe kept right with Erickson as they entered the gear room with everyone else.  
  
"What's happening," Erickson demanded.  
  
"We have bogies coming in," a tactician spoke, rushing over with a tablet that Erickson took and started skimming. "Large number. Your team is being requested to go through and take out all that you can with Colonel Salazar's team."  
  
Erickson glanced at Smythe. "Guess that means we'll be working together this time."  
  
She grinned, though she gave him a proper salute. "I am eager to work alongside you, Colonel."  
  
He nodded and handed the tablet back to the tactician. "Get Colonel Salazar this information. Inform him that I will be expecting a brief word before his team goes out. I am not mistaken that his team is going out first?"  
  
"No, sir," the tactician confirmed. "the Colonel is slated to go out first. It is stated that his team will be reconnaissance. Your team is bringing the fire power."  
  
Erickson nodded and the tactician left. Smythe ducked out before Erickson could speak with her more. She had information to make sure made it to her lead and she beat the tactician to the man. "Colonel," she happily chimed. "We've got ordered."  
  
"Oh?" he asked, passing her an actual weapon. "And what are they, per say?"  
  
"Orders to intersect bogies," the tactician cut in, offering the tablet to Salazar. Smythe rocked back and forth on her feet, excited. "Your team is going out first, sir. Colonel Erickson will be bringing in the firepower."  
  
Salazar nodded, handing back the tablet. "Thank you."  
  
The tactician left without another word. Salazar turned to Smythe and arched an eyebrow. She saluted, though it was sloppy at the edges. "Ready to go scouting, sir."  
  
"Good. I need all the information you can get for me on these bogies before we actually engage them." He handed her gear that she quickly traded the paintball gear for. "Don't forget to keep Colonel Erickson in the loop."  
  
Fully decked out, she gave him a perfect salute. "Of course, Colonel. At your leave, sir."  
  
"Be careful, Smythe. We don't know what we're up against."  
  
She nodded and ducked out of the room. She booked it through the base, running as fast as she could without creaming anyone. When she made it to the hangar, she hopped onto a hoverbike and shot out of there, ignoring protocol for not the first time and most likely not the last. There were several shouts of distaste at her actions but she ignored them.  
  
The helmet visor activated once she left the confines of the compound, scrolling through the report and giving her a location. She pushed the bike as hard as she dared.  
  
 _"Status, Smythe,"_ Salazar's voice crackled over the radio.  
  
"Three minutes out. ETA to first informal report is seven minutes."  
  
 _"Understood."_  
  
Two minutes later, she cut the engine and made sure the bike was tucked away out of sight before continuing on foot. She caught visual under half a minute. She cussed.  
  
 _"Smythe?"_ It was Erickson's voice this time.  
  
"We're up against a large group of close to two thousand, all heavily armed. They all appear to be heavily armored and well armed. This is going to have to be quick and dirty."  
  
 _"That's what he said,"_ came the dry reply.  
  
She snorted as Salazar questioned, _"Erickson, did you....did you just make the joke I think you made?"_  
  
 _"Yep,"_ the man replied. _"And I don't regret it for a second."_  
  
She grinned wide. "That's what he said."  
  
There were groans from both men.


	4. A Dark and Stormy Cliche

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Event Summary:**
> 
> So here's the fix! I want you write me a story - it doesn't have to be overly short or overly long, but do try to consider that there may be lots of you entering said competition, and that we need to judge all of you!) - utilising some of these awful starting lines that have all embedded themselves into our minds as some of the most dire cliché's in literature of all time. Using these, we want you create some great writing that makes us not want it to end!  
>   
> Here's the list! -  
> Once upon a time, a long, long time ago.  
> It was a dark and stormy night.  
> They say that all's well that ends well, but he begged to differ.  
> She was stuck between a rock and a hard place.  
> Little did I know, everything was about to change.  
>  **Record Scratch.** 'Oooh...yeah...that's me. I bet you're wondering how I got here?'

Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, his life had been so much simpler. Or had it been last week? His eyes suddenly widened in horror. Gods above it had only been last week! He suddenly felt like crying.  
  
"Yo, Turk. You alright, dude?" his companion asked.  
  
Tucker - his companion likes to call him Turk for whatever reason - gave his companion an exaggerated sad face. "I just remembered last week."  
  
His companion blinked at him, processing that statement, before they reached over and patted him on the head. "There, there, Turk," they consoled him. "You're boring life is waiting for you as soon as you make it through this."  
  
He swatted their hand away, the expression dropping away as quickly as he had placed it. "Oh please. You and I both know that things will never be the same. For one, my house no longer exists."  
  
His companion sweated, giving a nervous grin as they rubbed the back of their head. "Aw, yeah. I've said I was sorry."  
  
Tucker rolled his eyes. "And that still doesn't change the fact that my nice, lovely, stress-free life is no longer an option."  
  
"Least you've got me?" his companion tried.  
  
He gave them a flat look. "I'd much rather the others than you."  
  
His companion's expression turned hurt but he knew it was only for show. His companion knew the words were not overly accurate. Tucker enjoyed their company immensely, even after that rough first meeting and then suddenly being dragged on an adventure he did not ask for on any level. He also trusted his companion on a higher level than the rest of their party but it was not due to their actions. Tucker just hadn't found reason to really interact with the others beyond necessity. His companion, however, seemed to be tightly woven into the group and interacted with the party just as much as they interacted with him. Which actually got his mind back to the party where it had been before he had gotten distracted by nostalgic thoughts of home. "Speaking of the others, how are they doing?"  
  
His companion sobered up instantly, not needing any explanation. They knew who he was talking about. After all, the pair were prepping medicine and bandages for them. "They haven't gotten worse but Kirk isn't too sure they're getting better, either."  
  
Tucker sighed. "May the Fates smile upon us and help them to better soon."  
  
His companion placed a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Hey. At least they have your help. I don't think Kirk would have been able to have done as much as you have. These lands are still rather foreign to all of us, except you."  
  
"Lucky me," he offered softly.  
  
He stood up with the fresh bandages and medicine in hand, his companion picking up what remained. They moved to the main camp area. It was somber around the campfire. Many eyes glanced their way and Tucker felt relieved that none of them showed disdain towards him like the past week. He probably hadn't helped that with whining as much as he had and, in their current situation, shame colored his cheeks. Again he vowed to do better, just as he had when the twins had fallen ill.  
  
It had been no one's intentions to have such young ones joining them on this little adventure but sometimes things happen and young ones can be rather stubborn. When Tucker entered the tent, he found that the twins were thankfully not alone. Kirk was there, as was the twins' guardian looking exhausted and drawn out. Tucker's heart went to them as he knelt beside Kirk. "I brought what I could make."  
  
"It helps," Kirk assured him, taking the items. "Thank you."  
  
"How long till we can move?" a voice asked from the tent's opening. It was the leader of the party. Tucker still didn't understand how his companion outranked this man yet chose to remain under him.  
  
Kirk shook his head. "Until they wake, I do not advice moving them."  
  
Tucker glanced at the man still standing in the tent opening, expecting the short fuse the man had to go off. But, instead, the man merely nodded. "Let me know when they are cleared to be moved. But we may need to keep moving regardless."  
  
The man swept out and Kirk sighed. Tucker placed a hand on the older man's shoulder and Kirk patted it. "I'm alright. It's just hard trying to do what I can knowing that we need to keep moving."  
  
"We can see about making some sort of stretcher for them," Tucker's companion offered.  
  
"We may not have a choice," Kirk agreed, "and he may not be happy about it but they cannot ride in their conditions, not even with someone else. It'll only make them worse."  
  
Tucker's companion stood. "I'll go talk to him about it." They looked to the twins' guardian. "Care to help me, Alex?"  
  
The twins' guardian nodded, standing and silently following Tucker's companion out. This left Tucker alone with Kirk and two unconscious youths. Tucker got up, moving to the other twin as Kirk started tending to the one before him.  
  
"I wish there was more I could do," Tucker confessed once he had finished tending to the twin.  
  
"What you are doing is helping tremendously," Kirk assured.  
  
Tucker shook his head. "But I've very little knowledge in medicine. I know the plants only because of my mother and her studies of them in medicine. I only learned a few small recipes and none of them are useful."  
  
"That's not true," Kirk countered sharply. "This paste you keep making has helped keep infection away from every wound I have treated. It has even helped the skin mend smoother. Not to mention your know how if far different from mine, filling in the gaps that would have been left if you had never gotten caught up in our mess."  
  
Tucker ran a hand through the twin's hair. "Still doesn't feel like enough."  
  
Kirk gave him a tight smile. "Usually doesn't."  
  
Tucker's companion stuck their head into the tend. "Turk, when yer done, we could use a hand." Their gaze turned to Kirk. "He was actually all for it, surprisingly enough."  
  
Kirk arched an eyebrow. "Was that because you told him this is what you were doing or because you asked?"  
  
Tucker's companion grinned. "Yes." Their head disappeared and Kirk chuckled, shaking his head.  
  
Tucker got to his feet, pausing at the tent's entrance. "Will you be alright, Kirk?"  
  
"I'll manage," the older man assured him, waving him off.  
  
Turk wasn't sure he believed him.


	5. Paw-Print: My Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Event Summary:**  
>  They say that everyone has a side to them no one knows. They say that people project a different image of themselves on social media and online that is merely highlights, and not true to who people actually are or what their lives consist of.
> 
> Some think that this is true, too, for our non-human companions - our pets. They see almost everything we, people, do and we pay them little to no mind. So this is where you, players, tell us what our furry- scaly- feathery- friends see, know, and even do their on their own time.
> 
> What is the secret life of pets?

It is still, nary a leap from me, as I prepare to pounce, tail moving from side to side as I ready both back legs. I still.  
  
I pounce.  
  
The white round thing goes round and round in the odd green thing with the place to scratch and I watch it, never once taking my eyes off the fast white round thing. It eventually gets caught by the movable tunnels and I go after it again, causing it to go around and be stopped by my foreleg. I bat at it again, hiding myself under the movable tunnels partially so that the white round thing cannot see me.  
  
There's a noise and it distracts me from my game. I look up, eyes going to the climbing floor on the other side of the climbing trees to see the two-legs coming down the climbing floor from the higher floor above. I scramble upright. I do not mind the two-legs that live here. There are two of them and they feed me and play with me, but sometimes they try and pick me up and I do not like being picked up.  
  
My first week here was not nice. I was scared and not feeling well and the two-legs were always picking me up and trapping me and holding me down so that I could not run and hide. They would force icky water down my throat and I hated icky water. The thing that gives icky water hurt my mouth, too. The two-legs forcing icky water on me would always press a point on my mouth that made my jaw go all funny and make me open wide. I hated the two-legs for that and always hid from them because of it.  
  
But that was a long time ago but I still fear the trap and the icky water so I avoid upright two-legs. When two-legs is sitting on ground or is replenishing food and water or is sitting on the odd seat that sounds as if it water flows in it when they sit on it, two-legs are safe to approach. Most of the time.  
  
The odd seat that the two-legs sit on that sounds as if water flows in it or makes a strange noise when the two-legs steps away after returning their fur to their body will forever be a mystery and not always the safest place to interact with the two-legs. The taller two-legs is the younger, or so says my littermate. He is older littermate and is not of same litter but still littermate. He came to this litter from a different litter. We were brought to this litter together. He says that the taller is younger because his last litter - he calls it home and says that is what two-legs call litter (he actually called it terry tory but I don't know what terry tory is and I like litter) - had younger and older of different sizes that never matched age. He says older cats not of litter he was with before we were brought to this litter were smaller than him. I was smaller than all before coming to litter so I do not know if I believe him. The taller two-legs - whether younger or not - has grown to touching me more often. I am not sure I am ok with touch.  
  
Some touch is nice. Taller two-legs will rub the spot on my chin and on my neck that always feels so good. They will run their not walking paw down my back, sometimes scratching in areas, and that feels nice till it feels weird. Now taller two-legs has begun rubbing not walking paw on my belly and I am not sure if I like it or not. Littermate plays with me sometimes and he is much bigger than I am and so he often pins me on my back. I do not mind. He does not harm me and sometimes the two-legs make noises when we play like that. Taller two-legs will be sitting on odd seat sounding of water and lean over, shaking not walking paw against my stomach and I will paw at it and bite it but I never harm. Littermate shows me not to harm and two-legs both make noises that scare me when I harm. They never touch me when they scare me, never harm me, but I still fear the days of the icky water so I never harm. Well, try not to, anyways. Taller two-legs continues to play with me even if harm is accident. I cannot help my claws and how they scratch. They are meant for scratching and two-legs's not walking paws are not made for play like littermate and I am. Our fur protects us. Two-legs don't always have fur on not walking paws if ever.  
  
Taller two-legs leaves litter quite often out opening and closing wall to area beyond see through walls. There are see through walls on this floor and the higher floor. They all are facing the same direction. Littermate told me so. Littermate says that space beyond see through walls is larger terry tory. He says it has larger area to play and hunt. I do not know if I care to see larger area. Littermate misses it. Taller two-legs seems to know this but does not let him beyond the opening and closing wall.  
  
Today, taller two-legs has come down from higher floor with no fur on. I am confused but do not move from where I have settled in the protection of the climbing trees. Taller two-legs walks beyond where I can see them and I hurry to follow, to catch sight, because they do not move into the space beyond the hole wall. The hole wall leads to where the two-legs make interesting noises and scents from, sometimes giving us foods that are different from what food and water is already laid out for us. Taller two-legs crosses through with fur in hand. I do not move. I have settled beside comfy floor with no underspace like comfy floor with underspace on the higher floor above. Two-legs never touch me when I stay here if they have something in their not walking paws. I watch taller two-legs pass and rush up climbing trees to follow. Taller two-legs enters small space with box for relieving, strange noises coming from odd seat of water sounds. Littermate is already there, up on high ledge where it seems water is for he drinks and splashes. I hear it but I do not like high ledge. Taller two-legs has put me up there before and I do not like tall ledges.  
  
Taller two-legs never fully closes opening and closing wall, always leaving room for me and littermate to come and go as we please. I watch taller two-legs go beyond soft wall into space that has fast water. Littermate likes to go beyond the soft wall but I do not like the box beyond the soft wall. There is a lot of noise and the taller two-legs is there without fur. I also do not care for fast water like my littermate does. He is fascinated by the fast water. I do not know why.  
  
I return to outside opening and closing wall, laying near the small wall between two opening and closing walls. Littermate has settled on the hard floor beyond the opening and closing wall. I do not like hard floor. I prefer soft floor. Soft floor does not cause me to slip about like hard floor does.  
  
Taller two-legs steps out from beyond the soft wall when the fast water stops. They do odd things with a soft before hanging the soft up and putting on fur. Two-legs fur was nothing like littermate's and my fur and it was not to be cleaned by the tongue like our fur. At least, littermate says so and I trust him on this one. Two-legs fur does not look like it would be good to clean with tongue anyways.  
  
Taller two-legs then digs about the two boxes for relieving that are on the higher floor. Somehow taller two-legs makes boxes for relieving empty of past poops and makes the pee spots fresher again. I never can figure out how taller two-legs and sometimes shorter two-legs does it with the weird green bag.  
  
Taller two-legs it making noises. Littermate tells me I will come to understand a good amount of the noises as time passes. I can tell when both two-legs are calling me. I recognize the noise that littermate says is my name but I do not understand it. He will not tell me what it is. He says I will know with time.  
  
I am a vicious little killer. He will tell me because I tell him to. He pins me every time I try and show him how vicious I am and says that these words were given to me from the taller two-legs. This surprised me. Maybe I am learning the two-legs's noises faster than I thought.


	6. Poetry in Motion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Event Summary:**  
>  Your challenge should you choose to accept it would be to write a poem.  
> A poem about Motion.  
> How you perceive motion.  
> Motion of the heart, motion of the world, motion of thought, time, place..  
> How do you choose to interpret motion in a poem setting.

** Break **

The same motion every day  
Routine

Bend over

Kneel

Lift

Drag

Push

Pull

Squat

Stand

No movement is a luxury

  
  
  


Same routine, different thoughts  
Change

Calm interaction

Heated discussion

Passionate tale

Careful offer

Regretted words

Self doubt

Self hate

Triggered turmoil

_Broken_

  
  
  


Motion

Constant motion

Body

Mind

Never still

  
  
  


A trigger

_Anxiety_

Thoughts move faster

_Panic attack_

Body moves faster

Can't breathe  
Too much thought  
Not enough space

Not enough silence

Too much motion


End file.
